


see your face every place that I walk in

by likewinning



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, M/M, Obsession, this is an au of an au apparently, tim drake is a stalker with a crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-05 01:59:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4161363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likewinning/pseuds/likewinning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason is supposed to be Tim's mark, but he becomes obsessed with him instead and can't finish the job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	see your face every place that I walk in

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU [of an AU](http://archiveofourown.org/series/271950). Blame ohmcgee.

He’s been tracking Jason for months. From Gotham to Star City, Star City to Central, Central back to Gotham. Each time, Tim is ready – gun loaded, a knife around his waist and another two in his boots, money ready to be transferred to him as soon as he makes the drop – and he can’t do it.

Instead, he follows Jason in Gotham, watches from rooftops and parked cars while Jason hands out twenties and fifties to street kids who know him by name. He watches Jason take someone down in Star City, watches the blood pool around Jason’s feet and it’s the perfect time to leap down and just make it look like some twisted murder-suicide, but Jason walks away from the scene whistling _War Pigs_ and Tim lets him go, clutches his gun in one hand and his dick in the other.

In Central City, Jason catches Tim staring at him in a bookstore, and it’s too late to look like he’s only met Jason’s eyes by accident, too late to do _anything_ but smile when Jason walks up to him. “Hey,” Jason says, and his eyes are bluer than the pictures showed, his mouth so much more of a tease, and his voice hits Tim right in the gut.

“Sorry,” Tim says, and even he’s not sure if the stammer is real or put on. “I didn’t mean to – that’s a terrible book,” he says, looking down at the copy of _the Da Vinci Code_ Jason’s holding.

“I know,” Jason says, and his laugh makes Tim want to throw him back against a bookshelf and attack his throat with his teeth, makes him want to bury his face between Jason’s thighs. He’s never been this close to Jason before, close enough to smell menthols and aftershave and sugar.

“It’s for a friend of mine,” Jason says. “We collect old classics, but sometimes I just like to fuck with him.”

“Oh,” Tim says. Bruce Wayne, he figures. The people he works for have a whole _filing cabinet_ on him; getting rid of Jason was supposed to be a warning to Bruce. “Boyfriend?” Tim asks, and he doesn’t know _why_ he asks, but he also doesn’t know why Jason isn’t just some name he crossed off a list months ago.

“He wishes,” Jason says, and holds out his hand. “I’m Jason.”

“I – I’m Tim,” Tim says, quickly recovering from almost saying _I know_. Jason’s hand is warm and big, callused from six years of weaponry. Tim knows everything about him, by now; where he grew up, how long he was on the street, drug of choice and the cars he buys. 

“Well, Tim,” Jason says. “I’m gonna shoplift this shitty book. Wanna come grab a drink with me after?”

Tim agrees, only because he figures if Jason’s drunk and pliable it’ll be that much easier to slip a knife in his back.

Thing of it is, Tim’s knives stay where they are, and his jeans get tossed to the floor somewhere five blocks from there in Jason’s apartment. Jason strips down and Tim checks off every identifying mark: the tattoo of a phoenix on his shoulder, the bullet wound in his side, the ink all down his back and torso. He rides Jason’s cock, screams when Jason flips him over on his side and fucks him so hard they hit the floor, and the whole time he promises himself that he’s going to do it, he’s going to finish this job.

Instead he stays the night, learns the taste of Jason’s blood, the scent of the soap he uses, the way he sleeps curled up at the end of the bed with a knife under his pillow.

In Gotham, Jason finds him first, pulls Tim to him by the scruff of his neck in some dive bar, licks the shell of his ear and says, “I know who you are, and I don’t care.”

“What,” Tim starts, because everything in his training is deny, deny, _deny_. “What are you –“

“Tim,” Jason says. He presses his thumb to Tim’s throat, and Tim’s so _hard_ , and so is Jason. “If you were going to do it, you would have already. But me,” Jason says, slipping his other hand under Tim’s shirt. “I’m fucking bulletproof.”

Tim wants someone to prove him wrong, but he knows it’s not going to be him.


End file.
